IT'S refreshing that so many people are instructing relatives to forget flowers for their funeral and instead put the cash on a horse in their honour.

The latest was publican Harry Plumber, whose deathbed tip Time To Regret romped home at 11-8 to leave regulars at his pub quids in.

How ironic that a man who spent his working life calling Time should, when his own time was up, hand mates such a good time courtesy of a horse called Time. That said, no-one goes before his time. Unless the boss leaves early.

I remember when an uncle died and the priest, as the coffin was lowered, said: "He is not dead, he is merely sleeping." Another mourner said: "You can have 11-8 with me."

When I die I want it to be on my 100th birthday, watching the Cheltenham Festival from my beach house in the Maldives, and I want my partner to be so upset she has to drop out of college.